


Not the Worst Idea Ever, But Hardly the Best.

by Anonymous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [17]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Come Marking, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Guest Starring: Joel Kinnaman as Trevor, Height Differences, Honey Trap, Masturbation, Menstruation, Mild Peril, Please Heed The Tags I am Deadly Serious, Seduction, Sexual Content, angst with no comfort, discussion of menstruation, dont worry no period sex actually happens, not quite fuck or die but nearly, timetravel timeywimey handwavey bullshit please i am just a horny human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In less than two hours, Mount Rainier is going to erupt, killing thousands caught unprepared.The crew of the Enterprise is breaking every rule in the book to pull out one man, a pilot, who will prove invaluable to the future of humanity.There's one small problem, the shuttlecraft is damaged beyond flying, and the landing party has no money.This puts everyone in an uncomfortable and awkward position, but especially Hoshi, who gets chosen as the designated 'Honey pot.'After all, T'Pol can't abandon the crew as they await updates from the Captain...precise stardate, unknown. Year 2025: Earth, United States, Washington State, Seattle.





	Not the Worst Idea Ever, But Hardly the Best.

**Author's Note:**

> this is very stupid and im sorry but my demon brain gave me a dream and im gonna use it by golly.  
thanks in advance to the [0] other people that read this but hey its a thing that exists, please someone arrest me now!
> 
> thanks.

This is probably the most dire situation they’ve ever been in, and the captain isn’t even here to be making the decisions, he’s too busy being chewed out for what they’re doing in the first place. 

Hoshi would roll her eyes in disbelief if she wasn’t already doing it in annoyance at what T’Pol just said. 

“It’s not  _ my _ fault you entrusted the currency conversion to Malcolm, that’s hardly his specialty. This is america, you should have told your boyfriend to do it.” She holds the Vulcan’s stare, and feels mildly satisfied by the snort she gets.

“Commander Tucker is not-” Hoshi lifts a hand. “Fine. Keep living in denial. Whatever. We’re still in the negative by ninety thousand dollars thanks to the little crash landing. So now I have to just… what? Seduce a pilot?”

T’Pol may insist daily that she never has emotional reactions, but Hoshi will be damned if the Vulcan didn’t just smirk.

“It appears… that may be an option. Regardless, we’ll be incinerated by the volcanoes explosion in two hours if something can’t be figured out. I’m waiting to hear from the captain, but for now, I’m in charge. I’m ordering you to find a solution.” It’s lucky that Malcolm and Travis are arguing with some local fisherman about borrowing money in exchange for gold bars, which they definitely  _ don’t  _ have on board the Enterprise, but it’s turned into a running joke at this point. Shame the shuttle was damaged too much to fly, or they wouldn’t be in this pickle in the first place.

Hoshi inhales deeply, and then walks away from the group, heading directly towards the shop that claims it possesses all the supplies needed for hunters, fishers, and pilots therein. It’s full of men, smells vaguely like the outdoors. She fights the urge to wrinkle her nose, and squeezes past a particularly rotund fisherman, made so by half gear, half body mass. 

There’s a restaurant and bar in the very back of the store, which, confusing, though sort of makes sense, kind of. 

Hoshi sighs, and then keeps going, until she’s actually at the bar, wondering just how she’s going to bribe someone without any real money to speak of. There’s only one real candidate, the owner of the Lancair IV, or the Lander four, as Malcolm joked, and Hoshi only has to ask the bartender which man it is, finding that her luck is  _ slightly _ turning up.

He’s the best looking guy in the whole store, far as she can tell, even though he looks rather weary, slightly frazzled, and is currently pounding back a shot of something amber colored. Hoshi plops down in a seat right next to him, notes the lack of a wedding ring, and leans on her elbow, hand under her chin, smiling gently for maximum effect. “Hey there.”

He glances over at her, meets her curious gaze for three seconds, then immediately looks down at her chest. 

Hoshi will never again fault T’Pol for suggesting she wear this red camisole on an away mission, unless it’s the dead of winter. “Yo. You must be lost. Women’s attire is upstairs.” The guy grumbles, looking none too pleased with himself. Hoshi bites the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. This man is literally shooting himself in the foot, or he really doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hmm? Oh god no, I’m not looking for anything more to put on… more like the opposite.” Hoshi thinks she might be holding in her cringe pretty well, then the guy finally tears his eyes from her chest, and waves at the bartender for another. “So you need a drink?” He asks, sounding extremely morose. 

Hoshi blinks. “If you’re buying.” She finally says, feeling bold. Why bother pretending she can pay when the very fact that she can’t is why she’s poorly hitting on him in the first place? The guy nods, jutting his chin out, shifting in his seat.

Hoshi takes a moment to properly take in his attire, besides the holes in his shirt, the worn edges of his jean jacket, he’s rather…  _ built _ . Big shoulders, large hands, small scruff that can’t be classified in any way as a beard on his lips and chin, and sad hazel eyes that currently are gazing off into space. Or likely just staring at the shelf behind the bar, wondering what his next drink will be. Hoshi feels a pang of sympathy for the guy, even though she doesn’t know his name. 

Without the Enterprise’s interference, he’s going to be ashes, a pile of bones. Static fills her earpiece, and the only reason Hoshi remains stoic and silent is because it’s not the worst pain she’s experiencing at the moment. Her period cramps top that, just barely. “What?” She hisses, very aware the guy may think she’s crazy if she starts talking to herself. 

“It’s T’Pol. I’ve just made contact with Captain Archer. He says if you don’t find Trevor Johansson then this whole mission will be in vain. He’s who we need to save.” Hoshi blinks. “Okay. What’s he look like?” She’s basically breathing into her hand, aware the microphone is sensitive enough to pick up an ant’s footsteps. 

T’Pol immediately provides a description that fits this guy right next to her. Well shit. “Okay got it. In progress.” 

“Good work Ensign. Remember, time is of the essence.” Hoshi rolls her eyes again. “No shit.” She’s only mildly startled by her drink appearing in front of her, or rather, being slammed onto the counter. It’s just a shot of something that’s clear. 

She gulps, giving the guy, Trevor, a questioning quirk of her eyebrows, matched by a slight smirk. “What’s this?”

“Tequila. The fancy shit. You look like a fancy lady. Despite this horrible place.” He says, in the most monotone voice to rival T’Pol when she was informing the away crew they might die. Hoshi picks up the shot glass and forces a smile.

“To your health!” The painful irony doesn’t escape her, as it burns down her throat, Trevor sneaks another look at her chest. Ah, earth men, so predictable. It’s only five thirty in the afternoon, but in less than two hours, this town will be dust. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” His voice trembles slightly as he asks, and Hoshi feels her stomach lurch. “Yeah.” 

He leans in really close, his elegant if twice broken nose cool against her earlobe. She shivers. 

“The bathrooms have benches inside. We can lock the door.” Hoshi chokes down a sigh. He’s practically doing her job for her. “Okay.” Trevor opens up his wallet and puts down a wrinkled twenty and a five, before slouching out of his seat.    
Hoshi follows him, already feeling the tequila hitting, making her equal parts nervous and more calm. Earth alcohol is so different to the stuff Enterprise houses, it’s ridiculous. Though Hoshi suspects there’s cameras scattered around the bar, the hallway leading to the bathrooms are thankfully empty, as per regulations, even in the past. 

Trevor goes first, peering into the mens room, giving her a vague hand signal of all clear, and Hoshi trails after, only to get the wind knocked out of her when he slams the door shut, and pushes her against it. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He’s hissing, and she can only blink up at him, wide eyed, desperately hoping her shock covers for her awareness.

“What?” Hoshi counters. “I  _ saw _ you outside with a bunch of people. What, did you make some kind of bet about who could land the biggest loser in this place?” He asks, sounding more than angry. Hoshi isn’t  _ too  _ concerned, knowing perfectly well that T’Pol is listening in, and can storm in and rescue her, or send Malcolm, more accurately, if needed.

However, there’s really  _ something _ about a guy almost a foot taller than her, pinning her to a vertical surface. 

God, fuck this period horniness, Hoshi thinks. “N-no, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those are just my friends.”

Trevor’s jaw tightens, she sees it in his cheek, and despite a very real fear he might hit her with one of his massive hands, instead, Hoshi feels herself being lifted up off the ground, and he’s kissing her suddenly. Though her hands are now free, she instead uses her legs, curling first one around his back, his waist, then the other, so Hoshi’s entire body is just being supported by him leaning into her, and holding beneath her arms. “Fuck. I guess I really am a paranoid idiot then, huh?” He breathes. Hoshi shakes her head, kissing with a sort of frantic air down the side of his neck, biting on his neck gentle at first, then harder when he responds with a stuttering rock of his hips into the cradle of her thighs. 

“Shit, no, you’re not an idiot.” She feels him reaching down, but surprises her by not grabbing her ass, and instead just locks the door, as her center of gravity shifts, Trevor carries her away from the wall and towards one of those specific benches he spoke of. It’s big, padded, like a fainting couch, and Hoshi wonders for more than a second why it’s in the  _ mens _ room, but then Trevor is ducking lower to mouth over her collarbones, pulling at the straps to her camisole. 

This is a lot, very quick, and Hoshi can’t really say she doesn’t like it, but he’s going to be in for a disappointment when he gets her pants off. “Hey, hey, wait a second.” She gasps out, reaching blindly for his head, getting a fistful of dark blond hair, and he glances up to her, eyes blown dark, lips pinked from their kissing. “What’s up?” 

“It’s shark week… just so you know.” Trevor frowns, and then briefly lets go of her just long enough to get rid of both his jacket and shirt, giving Hoshi a proper eyeful of broad muscled chest, nicely covered with hair that  _ normally _ wouldn’t affect her so badly, but again, it’s  _ that _ time. She loses her train of thought and just grabs for him again. “Nothing.”

He’s kissing her and all but dry humping her, while gently groping at her now uncovered breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples, making her gasp into his mouth. Trevor may be a borderline depressive self medicating alcoholic, but he does know how to treat a woman, Hoshi thinks. She tries to return the favor by doing more than just thrusting back at him, putting a hand down between their bodies to feel for his dick through his grey sweat pants, but he’s not commando. 

All she gets is a vague outline straining through what has to be boxer briefs. 

“You want me to take them off?” Trevor breathes against her mouth, and Hoshi nods, “Yes please.” He pulls back, ending the kiss for a short moment, while hooking his thumbs into his pants, shoving them down to his knees, then Hoshi gets more than an eyeful. His underwear has that typical slit that most mens’ do, and he’s already maneuvering his dick out.

Trevor must sense her panic, because he all but trips over himself to assure her, “You don’t have to suck me if you don’t want, I could just jerk off on your tits.” Hoshi internally grimaces, hoping T’Pol isn’t precisely listening in anymore. 

“Oh! Yeah, that would be great. You can just touch me too. Over the pants?” She sounds too hopeful. 

Trevor looks so disappointed. “Why? I like eating girls out. It’s been a while, but it’s like a bike, I never forget.” 

Hoshi sits up a little, rubbing the heel of her palm into her temples, behind which a headache of massive proportions is forming. The  _ one  _ time a guy is begging to eat her out and she’s bleeding to rival a stephen king movie. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry. What I said earlier, it was a euphemism. I’m on my period. You know… shedding the uterus?” 

Hoshi grimaces  _ externally _ now, feeling entirely disgusting and annoyed with herself  _ for _ feeling it in the first place. 

Trevor blinks at her, the wheels clearly turning a bit slower than normal. He swallows. “Oh… so over the pants feels okay?” She nods, “Yeah, yeah it’s fine. Just come back here and kiss me.” Thankfully, Trevor obeys, looming on top of her once more, kissing her with an eagerness that betrays how badly he needs to come. Hoshi can’t hold back a little moan, relishing the fact he didn’t call everything off at her revelation, and she can now touch his dick without anything in the way. He shivers over her, both hands gripping the bench, making the wood squeak as it shifts on the floor. 

“God, yeah.” How long  _ has _ it been? He’s getting her hand very wet with pre fluid, and Hoshi is almost worried he’s going to come before she can properly get her top and pants off. Trevor moves away from her mouth, putting a halt to the whole jacking off thing, in favor of putting his lips and tongue where his hands were earlier, pulling her camisole down her stomach to join her pants, helping her free her arms from the straps. He goes for her pant hem next, and the graze of his knuckles against bare skin make her yelp. “Wait, I’m not wearing a tampon…” Hoshi wants to die a little at having to say that. Trevor frowns adorably, and then gets a good look inside her underwear. “Oh that.” She puts a hand over her face and feels him separating her pants from her underwear, carefully putting them back up over her hips, then moving in between her spread legs. “Yeah. That.” She says. “It’s okay. Five years married to a woman, you’d think I’d remember this shit.” Trevor murmurs quietly, making Hoshi’s head spin. “Wait, you’re not still…” she stammers, and he shakes his head.

“Four years divorced this thanksgiving. Don’t worry, I’m not an asshole. Just lonely.” he buries his face in the space between her breasts, and then puts a hand down to her stomach, lower still. He rubs over her mound through the fabric, and Hoshi actually finds her hips moving unconsciously to chase the sensation, grabbing his biceps for some kind of anchor. “Oh shit, oh god, that’s  _ good _ .” Trevor all but laughs into her neck. “Please, sound more surprised, it’s flattering.”

Hoshi would smack him, but she’s too busy clinging to him and finding her way to an orgasm. By the time it’s over, Trevor is breathing just as hard as she is, and she thinks she can feel a wet spot on her leg from his cock pressing into her skin. “Can I come on your tits now?” He asks quietly, and Hoshi nods rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, do it.” He gives her one more sweet little kiss, then sort of crawls up over her on the bench, straddling her while standing on the ground for sure, thanks to his height. She just looks up at him while he touches himself, eyes locked with his until he can’t keep them open any longer, his head falling back as he lets out a low groan, warm splatters covering her breasts, drooling up over her neck a little. Hoshi shivers, even though she’s not exactly cold, and Trevor immediately backs off of her, kneeling on the bench again to press apologetic, or maybe thankful kisses to her nose, cheeks, then lips. 

“That was amazing. Thank you so much.” He breathes, barely giving her a second to think, and then he’s grabbing his shirt off the ground, wiping at her chest. 

Hoshi grabs his wrist, hardly able to match his strength if he were to resist, and he looks at her, eyes wide. “What?” 

“Stop, I want to taste you.” She says. Mostly as part of the continued seduction, Hoshi reaches down to dip her fingers in one of the cooling, sticky smears, and then puts them in her mouth. Trevor’s mouth opens a little, and then she sees him swallow. “God. Sorry. I should have asked if I could finish a little on your face.” She finds herself smirking. 

“Maybe next time.” God is she insane? What is she talking about, next time? Trevor actually blushes, then finishes what he was doing, before stepping away from her to give her some privacy, rinsing his hands off in the sink. Hoshi pulls her pants on, then her camisole, and walks over to him. “I need to ask you a favor.” he looks at her in the mirror, fluorescent lighting casting an unhealthy pallor on his skin. “What’s up?” His voice sounds like it’s dropped an octave. Hoshi gulps.

“I need to be in Portland by seven thirty. My friends and I are in a band. Something happened to our transport. Would you be able to fly us?” Trevor sighs heavily, before a sad smile twists over his face. 

“I should have known. Was this your payment? Or should I say… my payment? There is no next time, is there?” 

Hoshi bites her lip, “After the show? Please, I’m begging you. It sounds crazy, but it’s a matter of life and death.” 

Trevor sets his jaw. “Fine. You were nice to me. You better buy the first round. You’re singing in a bar, aren’t you?”

Hoshi just nods. What’s one more lie? “Okay. Let’s go then. It’ll be at least an hour flight.” He sighs again, then moves to unlock the door, scooping his jacket off the bench. Hoshi doesn’t have to tell T’Pol they’ve lucked out, and she’s pissed.

The Vulcan’s expression tells her everything she needs to know, once they’re all piled in the back of Trevor’s plane. 

“No instruments and shit?” He asks, looking at Hoshi, frowning a little. The ground rumbles, like an approaching storm. Goosebumps erupt over her skin, and she gives him a nervous smile. “They’re arriving separately.” He stares at her for a long moment before starting up the plane, like he  _ knows _ she’s lying. “Okay then. Cleared for take off, over.” 

He radios the nearest tower, and finally, they’re moving. 

Once everyone is back on the Enterprise, and Trevor has been left in Portland with explicit stressed instructions not to return to Seattle for forty eight hours, though the news will tell the story in less time than that, Hoshi gives the Captain her report. She leaves out the gory details, and doesn’t say a word when he tells her job well done.

She’s not so sure about that.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> day 17: ** Masturbation | Seduction **<strike>| Collaring | Orgasm Denial </strike>


End file.
